Page 83 of A Convenient Fiction

She pressed on in spite of it. “I’d thought—or, rather, hoped—that once it did, you would permit me to manage it. I have plans, you see. Have had for the last three years. Teddy and I have been waiting for him to come of age so I can set those plans in motion. We never seriously considered my marrying. I hadn’t any desire to do so. But now—”

“Is this why you said yes to my proposal?”

She blinked up at him. “What? No. That is…I’m sure it carried some weight in my decision, but—”

“How much weight?” His voice was strange. Deeper than usual, with an underlying hint of…something.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

He said nothing for a long moment. And then: “No, I suppose not. This isn’t a love match, after all.”

Laura felt the sharp edge of his words all the way to her heart. Had he insulted her—rejected, or humiliated her—it couldn’t have hurt any worse. She looked ahead down the path, focusing on the trees and the shrubs, their leaves shimmering in the sunlight. “No,” she agreed at last. “It’s a marriage of convenience, that’s all. And one that will see you much better off than you anticipated.”

He folded his arms, staring down at her with that same unreadable expression. “How much better off?”

“Let me see.” She smoothed her skirts, vaguely registering that her palms were damp. “There’s the flower farm in Dorset—about two hundred acres, with an attached distillery. A factory in London. And a property in France—another flower farm with a distillery nearby.”

“Your family owns all of the land?” He sounded incredulous.

“Well…yes. How else do you think we earn enough to live on? Mr. Weatherwax leases out the land in Dorset to the farmer who owns the adjoining property. As for the London factory, and the distillery in France, they’ve been shuttered since my father died. Mr. Weatherwax has often tried to convince us to sell them, but Teddy and I have held firm.”

“What do you plan to do with them?”

“Open them back up, of course. And not for perfume production. We won’t make my father’s mistake. We’ll return to making lavender water. Only this time, we’ll have other fragrances available as well. Rose, orange blossom, and the like. All we need do is borrow the funds to get production started.”

Alex walked to the edge of the path and stopped. His back was to her, his shoulders taut beneath the lines of his coat. “And what’s to prevent me from selling my half share as soon as we marry?”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “You would never!”

He turned back to face her. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. The section he wore combed back from his brow, fell down over his forehead. “You don’t know that.”

She looked at him, speechless.

“You don’t know anything about me, Laura. Except that I’m a gambler and a fortune hunter. A man with no family, no friends, and no fixed address. Not the best credentials for a business partner.”

“No, but…you wouldn’t just be a business partner. You’d be my husband.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Worse and worse. Husbands routinely squander their wives’ fortunes.”

“I don’t have a fortune. Nowhere near it.”

“You have the potential for one. Much more than I knew.”

“Only if we work for it. Only if we take the risk. To simply sell the land and the distilleries would be a poor decision. One that would garner but a fraction of the income we could earn if we put them to use.”

“We,” he echoed. “You and Teddy?”

“You and I.” She took an uncertain step toward him. “Teddy wants no part in managing the business. He trusts me to do what’s right for us all.”

“And, in turn, you must trust me?” His lip curled in a sardonic smile. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

She closed the remaining distance between them, coming to stand in front of him, so close that her full skirts billowed against his legs. “Why are you being so disagreeable?” She laid her hand on his arm. “Is it because I didn’t tell you about all of this before?”

His gaze fell to her hand, lingering on the ruby ring he’d put on her finger. “I’m not being disagreeable. I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being perfectly churlish. Saying that you’ll sell my half of the business. That’s not realistic. That’s cruel. Whatever else you are, you’re not that.”

“You think not?”